


And To All A Good Night

by VitaLupum



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaLupum/pseuds/VitaLupum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas and its dark harbinger arrives at Teufort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And To All A Good Night

_T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the base,_   
_Not a creature was stirring, of movement no trace._   
_The stockings were hung in the messhall with care,_   
_In hopes that Old Nick soon would be there._

A dark shadow appeared on the wall outside the base. It reared up, a Santa's hat obvious upon its head, and then it had gone, as soon as it had come. A short while later, at the main door, there was the fizzle of the electric lock shorting out 'mysteriously'.

_The mercenaries were nestled all snug in their beds,_   
_While visions of new weapons danced in their heads._   
_And Shovel on the floor, and Sacha in bed,_   
_were drowsing in darkness, and resting their heads._

There was a general air of peace in the base that had not been seen for a long time. Under the blanket of rare winter's snow, the entire base slumbered, with only the occasional snore or snort or mutter – and the shadow's movement. It walked with a faint  _click_ , as if its feet came to points.

_When out in the messhall there came a loud clatter,_  
 _But no-one sprang from their bed to see what was the matter.  
_ _They were too lazy to find out the cause of the crash,  
_ _Assuming it Demoman out on the lash._

"Blast," the voice muttered, and freed its stocking-ed leg from the pile of bottles that formed a hazardous barricade across the messhall. It was as if somebody had tried to build a nest of glass and discarded a failed attempt where it lay. "I will brutally murder you all if you do not clean up this junk," the Santa muttered, and pulled a coat around itself. "I don't know why I do this."

_The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,_   
_Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below._   
_When, to only the night's wondering eyes should appear,_   
_But a bright purple Porsche, license plate reading FEAR._

"I thought she hated them all," one of the people in it whispered, leaning forward nervously, and the driver shook his head, cigarette shifting from one side of his mouth to the other.

"She does. Why do you think she's always getting them to kill each other?" he said quietly, and turned off the windscreen wipers, watching as the snowflakes built up on the glass.

"Oh. So why are we here?"

"Mr Hale tells us to jump, we better be able to claim we head-butted the moon by accident," the smaller man muttered. "And you know how he feels about her."

"I thought that was all in the past…?"

"Come on," the driver interrupted as a light blinked on the dashboard. "She wants us."

_With a little dour driver, quite sour and surly,_   
_Accompanied by a bodyguard, all rough and burly._   
_One big and one little, these enforcers, they came,_   
_And the shadow whistled, and shouted, and called them by name._

"Bidwell! Reddy! Hurry up, or I'll tell Saxton about your failure," the woman snapped into her communicator. She tapped her foot against the floor, and checked her watch. "Honestly, Pauling's faster than you, and she wears high heels!" She tapped her cigarette holder against the table as the two men bustled in, bent double under sacks of presents.

_"Now Bidwell, now, Reddy, come help with these presents._  
 _I think if you don't you'll find me quite unpleasant.  
_ _To the top of the corridor! Put those down on the floor!  
_ _Now get away before I lay waste to you all."_

_As syringes that before the angered Medic do fly,_   
_When they meet with an obstacle, cause them to die._   
_So up to the bedrooms, the hired thugs, they flew,_   
_With the bags full of presents, and the Administrator too._

"Hurry it up! I have no idea why I do this every year," she snapped, lighting another cigarette as she watched them staggering towards the bedrooms. "Sometimes, I think Zephaniah Mann was as deluded and insane as his two sons…"

"Aren't you worried that they'll hear you, madam?" Bidwell said, as politely as he could under the crushing weight of a sack full of weapons. The administrator snorted and shook her head.

"These imbeciles? They don't actually listen to anything."

_And then, in a twinkling, t'was heard in the air_   
_The panting and groaning and occasional swear,_   
_As they dropped down the sacks, and picked out the swag,_   
_The Administrator plucked a present from her own handbag._

"What's that, ma'am?" Reddy groaned politely, knees knocking together. The Administrator let out a sigh through her nose, along with a cloud of smoke, and shrugged.

"I have no idea."

_It was bound all in purple, a lilac most sweet,_  
 _And on it was written 'to my Christmas treat.  
_ _Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.'  
_ _The Admin regarded it with a dark sneer._

"It's for that redneck of a Texan," she sighed. "Pauling wanted me to deliver it personally to him… sadly, x-raying it has given no indication of what's inside it. And it is anonymous. Hopefully, he'll think it's from that raging homosexual of a Spy."

"I thought you liked the Spy?" Bidwell said, confused.

"I don't like any of them. I just hate him the least." She turned, and walked over to the Engineer's door. "Keep going!" Bidwell snatched up the sack again hurriedly. By the way, try not to breathe in too deeply."

"Why?" Reddy asked, and the Administrator smiled wolfishly.

"Because the knockout gas I used to keep them all asleep might not have thinned yet." Reddy and Bidwell immediately clutched their noses and mouths, and were attempting to breathe through their ears when they noticed her snicker of amusement.

_She spoke not one more word, but went straight to his room,_   
_And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk._   
_And shaking her head in a fine disbelief,_   
_Strode out the room, and motioned to leave._

"It'll be wearing off soon. Hurry up!" she snapped, and the two men scuttled out behind her.

"So," Reddy panted, trying to keep up with her long strides. "Why do you do this?"

"It was in Zepheniah Mann's will," the Administrator growled hurriedly. "Now, hurry it up!"

_She stalked to her car, to his team gave command,_   
_But it has since been ventured, by those there first-hand,_   
_That they heard her whisper, as they drove out of sight,  
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"_


End file.
